


Flowers in Elysian

by ellorgast



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Manga), Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: Community: shitennou_ai, Complete, Gen, Shitennou, Shitennou Forums Ficathon, Silver Millennium, Silver Millennium Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1772620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellorgast/pseuds/ellorgast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Prince Endymion wants to go exploring, and Kunzite deals with the ongoing frustrations of being a guardian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers in Elysian

It was a glorious spring day in Earth’s First Kingdom. The palace gardens were thick with the scent of flowers and the contemplative buzz of bees. These gardens were legendary outside the kingdom, with endless hedges twisting every which way, dozens of elaborate stone sculptures, fountains and little streams and ponds filled with golden fish, and hundreds of varieties of plants--some that produced flowers, some that produced fruit. Only nobles and visiting dignitaries had cause to visit the royal gardens, and fewer still were admitted into the private areas, where high walls and locked iron gates kept curious eyes at bay. 

Of course, the young prince could have told them that they were not missing out on anything at all. There was nothing in the inner gardens other than some boring old flowers, same as everywhere else. He stared derisively up at the apple tree above him, wishing that the clusters of white blossoms would hurry up and turn into something much more exciting than a bunch of smelly flowers. But they did nothing of the sort, and so Endymion, heir to the throne of the Golden Kingdom, took matters into his own hands. 

He had periodically tried to climb these trees before, but the branches never quite allowed him to reach the top of the garden walls. He could see one particular branch snaking horizontally near the wall’s edge, though, and perhaps, if he was very brave, he could leap the small gap from the branch to the wall.

When he reached the branch, he found that bravery was not the most desirable of virtues after all, and so he instead stretched out his foot as far as it would reach. After much effort, he had wiggled himself from branch to wall, and found himself high up above the maze of gardens. A small breeze brushed at his dark hair. Freedom.

He made his way out of the gardens. He knew the outer gardens well, but normally he was chaperoned. To race through the curved archways that were entwined with thorned rose vines, just now beginning to bud, as fast as he wanted to, was a new sort of freedom. 

The gates would be watched, but his adult guards would not know to check the low gaps in the hedges, too small for anything but a fox or a small child, which Endymion always had a keen eye for. Soon he emerged, with leaves in his hair, dirt on his knees, and snags in his short cape, completely outside the palace’s inner grounds, unwatched and with endless possibilities before him. Down the hill, the edges of the capitol city began, with all its colors and people. Or if he turned another way, the wild forest, far unlike the well-trimmed gardens, beaconed its dark branches. 

Faced suddenly with limitless choice, Endymion could think only of the stables. He desperately admired the tall warhorses with their keen eyes and the giant draft horses with their enormous feathered hooves, but his own mount was a tired, tame, and altogether boring old pony by the name of Buttercup. To sneak into the stables all by himself, a place where he was always forbidden from entering without supervision, was more than rebellious enough for him.

***

Kunzite made a great effort not to sigh. Normally, he would have liked to stride purposefully down the palace halls, both because he was busy and had things to do, and because he wanted to let everybody who saw him know that he was busy and had things to do. The head of Endymion’s guard (and until recently, the only member of Endymion’s guard) was the mature old age of fifteen, and knew that everything he did was very, very important. 

Unfortunately his progress was slowed by an ever-present tug on his cape. 

He tried to remember that this situation was self-inflicted. Had he not insisted to the queen that the discovery that the second Shitennou was still so young might actually be a blessing? That raising the new child alongside the young prince would serve to strengthen their bonds in adulthood and, just as importantly, give Endymion a playmate? Kunzite did his best, of course (and in truth, played more games of pirates than he would ever dare admit to any living soul), but while he was away being trained for his own duties, his prince led a very isolated life. He understood his queen’s caution, why they limited his contact to family, special guards, and a handpicked selection of staff, but the boy was growing increasingly frustrated at his confinement. Somebody closer to his age might be just what Endymion needed right now. Somebody to settle him down, give him a distraction from the outside world.

Of course, that was when he had been told that the new child-king was nearly a full year older than Endymion. Somebody who could, Kunzite hoped, still act as a guiding influence while being closer to his level. He had not been expecting the tiny, pale young one who had yet to speak a single word since setting foot inside the palace. He had gravitated instantly towards Kunzite (to be fair, the queen, at the time, had been wearing her very large spiky crown, and the guards were all still much taller than himself), and had been clutching at the edge of his cape ever since.

Kunzite, now no longer the only Shitennou in the palace, stepped out into the garden. The child followed hesitantly, half hidden behind the cape, which was tightly fisted in both hands and drawn up to his face. All that could really be seen was a wild tangle of red-blond hair. 

On a warm day like this, Endymion would be found swinging stick-swords around or throwing rocks into the little pond, but a quick scan of the area did not yield that shock of black hair. Perhaps he was playing hide-and-seek in the little alcove behind the willow tree. Kunzite started forward--and was forced to stop. The child had not moved with him. “Zoisite?”

The child stood immobile, staring up into a tree. Now that his face was not buried, Kunzite could see his sharp green eyes. “Zoisite,” he tried again, but the boy did not respond. He sighed. This might take a while. “Solaris.” The child blinked up at him. “What do you see?”

Zoisite pointed up into the tree, which was blooming with fragrant lilacs. “You like the flowers?” 

He nodded emphatically.

Kunzite reached up and broke a small branch off, then handed it to the blond haired boy. Zoisite immediately dropped the edge of his cape and snatched up the flowers instead. 

At least he had his cape back.

He strode across the gardens, Zoisite quietly following with the lilac branch firmly clasped in his small hands. A quick scan of the inner garden’s perimeter yielded no sign of the young prince. He was not hiding in any of his usual nooks, nor did he answer when called. Kunzite began to grow concerned, when he felt a tug on his cape. Zoisite was pointing up at another tree. Kunzite glanced up at the white apple blossoms. “What? You want more?”

Zoisite shook his head, and stubbornly pointed again. Then Kunzite saw. The rough bark of the apple tree’s branches was newly scuffed and torn. Even on one of the very highest branches, which leaned awfully close to the wall. Kunzite did not manage to stifle his sigh this time. “Want a tour of the gardens?”

Zoisite looked pleased.

***

The stables were as mystical a place as any little boy could dream. Sunbeams thick with drifting dust cut through the shadowy place. Enormous beasts swished their tails and stamped their hooves on the packed dirt. It smelled of sweet hay and earth and horses.

Endymion was too small for a real horse, relegated to squat ponies that bit. Sometimes Kunzite would let him sit up with him on his sturdy Icelandic, and once they even broke into a full gallop in the open field, though the stablemaster was less than pleased. Kunzite had claimed that he’d lost control, but Kunzite never lost control of Skymning. He found the black and silver dapple now, crunching thoughtfully on a bucket of oats. Skymning was playful, and he had a sweet tooth. Endymion had no lumps of sugar to lure him with, but he stood on tiptoe at the window anyway, hoping to tempt him with a handful of hay. The dappled horse eyed him through his long shaggy mane and gave a snort. He knew sugar lumps from clumps of hay.

Footsteps crunched outside, and Endymion whirled around. He would be in big trouble if caught in the stables by himself, and anyway, it was too soon for his moment of freedom to end. Quickly, he sought a place to hide. 

***

This situation was... less than ideal. 

A prince was missing. A prince whose parents would have happily kept him locked in a small room until he was of age if more reasonable voices at court had not convinced them that the boy would not suffer a horrible fate if kept to the more private areas of the castle. The king and queen were not unreasonable people, Kunzite knew. They simply feared what they did not understand. And what they did not understand was how their young son could read a person’s thoughts. Not always intentionally, mind. In fact, given his still limited control over it, usually not intentionally. That was the problem. The boy was far too young to know the contents of other people’s brains. Certain thoughts were not intended for small children. The bawdy fantasies of a servant who made frequent visits to the brothels, for instance. The gruesome memories of a soldier. And so, if they could not control his powers, they could at least limit the number of people he encountered while he learned to control them himself. 

Kunzite could speculate on how little he agreed with that part later. At the moment, he needed to find the lost prince. Preferably before his absence was noted. Ideally, without his head covered in flowers.

Zoisite seemed to enjoy being carried on Kunzite’s shoulders. Rather than hiding behind his older comrade’s cape at every sound, he eagerly looked around from his high vantage point, a newfound confidence making him tremble in delight at the huge bronze fountain from which four enormous swans spouted water, and at the archers practicing their skill in the yard. Of course, the branch in his hand trembled along with him, sending a cascade of purple petals over Kunzite’s shoulders.

If he tried to set the child down, of course, their search would slow to a crawl. If he tried to return Zoisite to his parents, who were enjoying honeyed wine and sweetcakes with the queen, he would be asked to report on how the introduction had gone. With some effort at maintaining his dignity, Kunzite flicked a petal out of his bangs and continued to stride purposefully across the yard. A pair of chambermaids giggled as he passed, and he felt his cheeks redden, but he did not slow his gait. 

He recognized a pair of the Queen’s knights, exiting the stables. He had trained beside them often, even though they were many years his senior. Kunzite was not eager to be seen by them with flowers all over his head. Unluckily, they turned and greeted him immediately. “It seems one of the fairy people has taken you as his mount,” Sir Luxor guffawed. 

Kunzite refused to join in the laughter. “Sir Guerrin, Sir Luxor, this is Zoisite, the second of Prince Endymion’s guards.”

“I see, we have a future warrior in our midst. And is that his weapon? A mighty sword of flowers?”

Zoisite brandished the tree branch high over his head, sending a rain of lilacs everywhere. Kunzite clenched his jaw and mentally recited Latin to keep more blood from rushing to his face.

“What a fierce protege you have brought into our midst,” Sir Guerrin exclaimed with mock seriousness. “We will have to watch our step at our next training session.”

The pair shared another laugh as they departed, and Kunzite found that he had to take a moment to straighten his jacket. Zoisite plucked a sprig of flowers off his branch and helpfully stuck it in Kunzite’s hair. 

Kunzite stared into the shaded entrance of the stables, deciding that perhaps he should just hide from the world for a few minutes. At least until he could brush off all the flowers. Then he remembered how Endymion loved the stables, and considered that this might actually be a valuable place to investigate. He lifted Zoisite off his shoulders and set him down beside him. “Let’s go see the horses.”

It was Zoisite who found him. He stood staring behind some horse tack until Kunzite noticed and came to investigate. He immediately recognized the hem of the navy blue short cape, trimmed in gold embroidery, though it was now a little snagged and torn. “There you are!” he barked, trying out the booming voice that his swordsmanship instructor used whenever his stance was off. It was satisfyingly loud and stern to match the level of anxiety his liege had caused him. He continued as he marched closer to the prince’s hiding spot. “You cannot fathom the trouble you are in, Endymion.”

The little black-haired prince huddled behind the horse tack. He was pale-faced and his eyes were red from crying. Kunzite stopped short, any further scolding dying in his throat. His anger was quickly overtaken by concern for his little prince. He knelt, put his hand on Endymion’s back, and felt him trembling slightly. “Tell me what happened. Did you fall and hurt yourself?”

Endymion shook his head sharply. “I wanted to see the horses but then the knights came so I hid and I… I didn’t mean to touch it.” Kunzite glanced around in confusion, unsure of what “it” was. But Endymion was staring at the dusty old horse blanket that was folded up in the corner near him. It had seemed before that Endymion was huddled in such a small ball to hide better, but now he saw that the prince was cringing away from the blanket, like it might reach out and grab him of its own volition. “She was so happy that they took her out into the woods. She wanted to gallop fast, and they let her. B-but then she smelled a bear and she got frightened and there was a cliff and a lot of rocks and she was hurt so bad. Her leg--it wouldn’t move right. He--her rider--petted her on the face and that made her feel a little better. But then he had his sword out…” The small boy shuddered, and Kunzite could guess the rest. Some thoughts were not intended for small children. But when even objects could pass on their memories into Endymion’s hands, how could they ever protect him?

He pulled the little prince into his arms and held him while he finished crying, while Zoisite silently held his tree branch. That gave Kunzite an idea. “Solaris Zoisite, come here.” He held out a hand, which the blond child dutifully took. “I want you to think of your favorite thing from home. Can you do that for me?” Zoisite nodded, his green staring eyes solemn. 

“Good.” Kunzite brought Zoisite’s hand to Endymion’s, closing the link. For a moment, nothing changed, and he wondered if he had been wrong, if certain horrors were too overwhelming for even the happy memories of children. And then, suddenly, Endymion laughed.

“Birds like that can talk?” He asked, as though he and Zoisite had just engaged in a long conversation.

Zoisite laughed too, nodding. 

“I have never seen one like that. We must visit your mother’s kingdom so you can show me!” They shared a laugh again, the blond no longer quite so shy as he had been. Endymion noticed the branch in Zoisite’s hand. “You like flowers?” Zoisite nodded. “Have you seen the gardens yet? I can show you!” He leapt up eagerly, gripping Zoisite’s hand.

“You are still in trouble, you know,” Kunzite cut in, standing above the two.

Endymion paused, dread crossing his face. Then Zoisite looked at him, squeezed his hand, and his eyes lit up in thought. “Mother says we should always think of guests first.”

Kunzite crossed his arms, wondering where this was going. “And?”

“And Solaris wants to see the gardens. I would be a bad host to make him wait. So I should be punished later. After Solaris leaves.”

Kunzite continued to eye him sternly. “Zoisite is the second of your Shitennou. He will not be leaving.”

Zoisite’s green eyes stared back up at him. There was an unspoken “exactly” blazing in them.

Kunzite glanced from one child to the other. Had he exchanged one set of problems for another? He saw his future laid out before him: a lifetime of reigning in troublemakers who, rather than settling the young prince down, simply found more sophisticated ways for him to bend the rules. This would not be the last time he went hunting for a missing prince, he realized. Maybe this was only the beginning. 

Endymion watched Kunzite, eager and hopeful instead of alone and sad. Perhaps this set of problems was still preferable to the alternative. He gave a single nod. “Show him, then. But through the gate. Not over the wall.”

The boy prince gave a cheer, and the newfound friends took off at a run. Kunzite would have a very positive report for the Queen, he decided, as he followed the trail of fallen lilacs.


End file.
